Staccato Heartbeat
by black tie event
Summary: Those who knew the two all said the same thing - that Klavier Gavin would stop at nothing to annoy Ema, and that Ema Skye would do everything in her power to avoid Klavier. But what no one knew was how quickly those feelings could change.
1. Chapter 1

_I'll tell you girl, you do a number on me,  
With those eyes I swear you stole from the sky._

Ema Skye was thoroughly enjoying herself.

She had been investigating a case all afternoon, and despite the fact that he had been assigned to prosecute the case, there had been no sign of him that day. In fact, the crime scene was utterly deserted. Ema fished the wrinkled pages of case data out of her shoulder bag and scanned them over. _… Victim: Lionel Trudeau, male, age 25 … Suspect: Olivia Moore, female, age 23 … Prosecutor: Klavier Gavin._ She wasn't surprised, really. As brilliant as he could be in court, Klavier took very few things _seriously._ Blowing off investigations was just another reason why he deserved to be called a _glimmerous fop._

Even without the prosecuting attorney there, the investigation wasn't going badly. Ema had spent the entire morning dusting for fingerprints and searching for wiped blood stains. She had found plenty of evidence, which was reason enough to be happy, but her cheeriness stemmed mostly from the fact that she had been doing what she loved best all day – science.

Her shoulder bag stuffed with papers and glass vials, she was just about to walk around the abandoned factory one more time when the first few bars of _She Blinded Me With Science _broke through the silence. Ema jumped straight into the air, and her hand flew to her pocket to pull out her ringing cell phone.

"H-hello?" she said, gingerly pressing the fingers of her free hand to her wrist. Her pulse was still beating hard from the unexpected noise.

_"Hey pal!"_ boomed the voice on the other end. _"Sorry if I startled you or anything. They just told me I should call you …"_

"Detective Gumshoe?"

_"That's right, pal! Look at this – they've got me makin' these phone calls now, like a secretary or somethin'! I should be out there, searchin' for clues, huntin' down evidence …"_ Detective Gumshoe trailed off into silence for a few moments. _"Oh, but listen pal. You've been at that crime scene all day, right? I'm down at the police station, and they said you're free to go now."_ There was a pause, as if the detective was checking for any potential eavesdroppers. _"If you ask me, pal, it just sounds like they forgot about you!" _He chuckled.

"Hmm. Yes, well, thanks for the call, Detective," Ema said, her tone virtually unreadable. There was another moment of silence.

_"Ah, um … I don't suppose anyone else stopped by the scene?"_

"Not a soul."

_"Are you sure, pal? The trial's tomorrow, you know … you definitely didn't see anyone? Not even, say, Prosecutor Gavin?" _

It was the one name she didn't want to hear. Ema could almost feel her blood pressure rising.

"There was _no one_ at the crime scene today, besides me. Especially glimmerous prosecutors who ride motorcycles and have better things to do than _investigate their own trials!"_ She spat out those last words like poison.

"Er … alright then, pal. Good luck with the trial." There was a click as the flustered detective on the other end of the line hurried to hang up the phone.

Ema sighed and patted the brick wall of the factory almost affectionately. _This is why I like science so much. There's never anything glimmerous about it._ She snapped a few last-minute pictures of the crime scene – the tattered _Trudeau's Truffles_ sign, the heavy wooden door, half rotted and hanging on with rusted hinges, the white tape outlining the shape of the victim's body after he fell seven stories to his death – and then bent down to pick up the empty bottles of luminol fluid scattered across the ground.

A low whistle echoed across the factory's parking lot.

"Hey, Fraulein! You know if I were you I'd check to see who's around before bending over like that – you're lucky we're at an _abandoned _factory, nein?"

Ema spun around so fast it made her dizzy. "A simple 'hello' works for _most people,"_ she growled at the purple-clad prosecutor walking towards her, "but perhaps prosecutors are an exception?" Her lips were curled in a smirk, but there was no echo of that smile in her eyes. The rest of her face looked downright grumpy.

"Bad day, Fraulein?" Klavier Gavin asked, raising an eyebrow. His tone was patronizing at best.

_It was quite fine until you showed up._ "Ready for the trial tomorrow?"

"Have I _ever _been unprepared for a trial?"

Ema laughed sourly. "So did you come and investigate the crime scene before I got here, or have you just been invisible all day?" _Let's see him argue with THAT logic!_

"Nein, Fraulein. You forgot the third choice – the one where you fill me in on all the details of the case," Klavier said, smiling like a child who just answered a challenging math problem.

"You're delusional, Mr. Gavin," Ema said, "if you think I'm staying here any later to talk to you about the case." Her icy tone seemed to surprise Klavier, as the smile quickly faded off his face. "I've already been given permission to go home, and that's exactly what I plan to do."

"Ah, but did you forget? You work for _me,_ Ms. Skye." Klavier seemed to take the icy chill in Ema's words and throw it back tenfold. "… Ja?"

Ema was cornered. It was true; she worked for Klavier and if he wanted her to search the factory building ten more times before going home, she'd probably have to comply.

"Now," Klavier said, glancing at his watch, "it's almost 3:00." He waved his hand at a large brick building across the street; the smile had returned to his face. "See that restaurant? Ja, of course you do. There's nothing wrong with your eyesight, I assume. I'll meet you outside at 5:00 –"

"We're discussing a murder case – it's not a date, Klavier!"

"– nein, better make that 5:30. Sound ok to you, Fraulein?"

Ema was glaring daggers at Klavier; if looks could kill, he'd be a dead man. "If you expect me to go out to dinner with you to discuss a murder case you're sorely mistaken! Think of another place." Ema paused. _"Now."_

"If you insist, Fraulein. Another place? Well I hear my bedroom is quite nice this time of the year," said Klavier with a wink.

Ema exploded. An indignant cry of "KLAVIER GAVIN!" echoed across the empty parking lot.

"Hey now, you wanted an alternative!" Klavier glanced smugly at Ema. Of course he hadn't expected her to accept his second proposal, but it was worth it to see the look on her face. "Dinner, then? 5:30 on the dot – don't be late, Fraulein!"

Ema's mouth opened but no words came out. Klavier tapped his watch once more for emphasis, flashed Ema one of his winning smiles, and walked away.

_Score one for the glimmerous fop!_

* * *

The digital clock in Ema's apartment read 5:15. It was at least a fifteen minute walk from her apartment to the restaurant across the street from the crime scene, but Ema made no efforts to get up from her couch. She had spent the past two hours flipping through channels on the TV and grumbling to herself about Klavier.

_How would sis handle this?_

Of course Ema didn't really need to ask herself that. She knew what Lana would do in this situation – she would go to the dinner, handle herself perfectly, and probably walk away from it all with a promotion or two.

Ema was amazed by Lana's composure. Being offered a job from a high-ranking European prosecution agency after being the prime suspect in a murder trial was something that could not be accomplished without high levels of composure. It was just one of the things about Lana that impressed Ema so much.

When the clock read 5:25, the part of Ema that took after her older sister forced her to get up from the couch, shuffle over to the bathroom, and peer at her reflection in the mirror. Deeming it satisfactory, she slung her bag over her shoulder, and paused for a second in front of her apartment door.

She knew she couldn't afford to lose this job – that was the other thing about Lana's current employment in Europe. It meant Ema was all alone in Los Angeles. She had friends, of course, but she couldn't rely on them the way she used to rely on Lana. Her friends couldn't – or wouldn't – pay the bills if Klavier fired her.

Nothing other than this worry could have made her leave her apartment that night.

* * *

Ema felt suddenly hopeful when she approached the restaurant almost fifteen minutes late and didn't see anyone around. She smiled to herself as she waited at the crosswalk, her eyes scanning the sidewalk for any sign of the prosecutor. _He probably had a meeting … or a rehearsal. _

Then a red car pulled out of its parking spot along the side of the road and Ema could see a purple figure leaning against the building across the street.

She saw him before he saw her, and she made a point of wasting as much time as she could as she stepped across the crosswalk, partially to delay their inevitable meeting and partially to annoy the prosecutor. Despite Ema's best efforts, it was only a few seconds before she was standing outside the Eclipse Bar and Grill, face to face with Klavier himself.

"Hello, fraulein," Klavier said with a smile, offering the stunned detective his arm. For a moment Ema stared at him, trying to detect the odd tone he had just used … was that a hint of tenderness? Then she wrapped her arm around his lightly, as if touching him with more than an inch of skin would be deadly. She had come to the conclusion that his attitude was the same as ever.

The inside of the restaurant was decorated in shades of brown and soft yellow, with high elegant windows stretching across the wall opposite from the entrance. The floors were tiled with some sort of rich dark wood, and the tables, which mostly sat two, were covered in long, white tablecloths which looked dangerously easy to stain. It was _exactly _the type of restaurant Ema would have expected Klavier to choose.

At the sound of the front doors closing behind them, the girl standing behind the hostess desk began to turn around.

"Welcome to the Eclipse Bar and Grill, do you have a reserva–" She cut off mid sentence, and Ema had a feeling that her sudden screech was directed towards her companion, and not her. _"Klavier!_ I had no idea you'd be coming back so soon!" Klavier grinned back at her.

"I had a bit of a change of plans, Sarah." He tugged on Ema's arm, pulling her along as he followed the hostess towards their table. "Where else could I go on such short notice?" Sarah stopped near a table in a corner of the restaurant that was relatively empty, placed the menus down, and turned back to the two diners.

"April will be right with you, sir," she said, smiling at Klavier. "And don't worry," Sarah said as she saw Klavier begin to open his mouth. "You know nobody gets past me without a reservation." The prosecutor seemed satisfied with this response, and as Sarah began to walk away he looked up at Ema.

"Shall we?"

"What was that all about?" Ema glanced at Sarah's retreating back.

"Sarah? She's been the hostess ever since the first night I ate here. She does a good job of keeping the screaming fans at bay, ja?" Klavier's eyes twinkled. "But fraulein, please sit down. You can't eat standing up."

Ema shot Klavier a chilling glare before sitting down at the table. She was about to pull out her case files when another beaming girl approached the table.

"Let me guess, fraulein. April?" Klavier asked, his voice smooth. The waitress's smile widened.

"At your service!" She was grinning at Klavier as if they had known each other for years. "And does the famous Mr. Gavin come here often?"

"Fairly, yes. But I'd come here more often if all the waitresses were as pretty as you, fraulein." April blushed and shook her head gently, as if she didn't think she deserved such praise.

"You girlfriend is very pretty, sir," she said, pulling out a notepad to take their orders.

"I'm not –" Ema tried to protest, but Klavier cut her off.

"What are your specials tonight?"

Ema rolled her eyes and reached down into her bag to find some of the case documents, fragments of Klavier's conversation with the waitress drifting towards her. Half under the table, Ema wasn't paying too much attention to what was going on around her until a loud voice called her name.

Shocked, Ema sat up quickly and banged her head on the bottom of the table.

"Ow! What do you want?" She was looking back and forth from the waitress to Klavier, trying to figure out who it was who had shouted her name. Reaching up, she touched the top of her head where she had banged it. _"Ow!"_

"We just wanted to know what you wanted to order, fraulein," Klavier said, his eyes bright with laughter. Ema glanced down at the menu; she hadn't looked through it much.

"Um … w-well," Ema stammered, her cheeks burning. "I'll just have what he's having," she replied, gesturing towards Klavier. April scribbled something down on her notepad and hurried off.

"Thanks a lot," Ema growled, gingerly feeling the bump on her head. It was still throbbing.

"I fail to see how this is _my _fault, fraulein," Klavier said. "Unless you're implying that my handsome looks distracted you while you were trying to read the menu." He winked in Ema's direction.

Ignoring him, Ema pulled a pile of papers out from her bag.

"Here's the autopsy report -" she shoved a rather full-looking manila folder across the table "- along with the victim's health report, criminal records, birth certificate -"

"Is the birth certificate really necessary?" asked Klavier, faking curiosity as he pulled the document in question from the folder.

"I like to be thorough."

"Of course," the prosecutor replied, gently replacing the certificate and folding his hands over the folder. "Anything of importance in here?"

"It's _all _important, Klavier! I spent all morning compiling those records. There's some good information about our suspect at the bottom."

Klavier thumbed through the papers again. "Ex-lovers? It's almost too easy," he mumbled to himself, then looked up at Ema. "I'm assuming the suspect – her name was Moore, wasn't it? Ja, I'm assuming you've deduced that the breakup was Miss Moore's motive, fraulein?"

"The victim apparently broke off the relationship with Miss Moore in order to follow through with an engagement to another woman. I spoke to the other woman this morning – she'll be our first witness tomorrow." Ema took a sip of water. "She promised to bring some violent letters she received from our suspect, as well."

"I see you're well-prepared, fraulein. Does Miss Moore have an alibi?"

"Her defense attorney claims she had a manicure appointment at the time of the murder, but the receptionist at the salon told me she had seen a lady fitting Miss Moore's description rushing out the door a few minutes before the murder was committed."

"So her alibi doesn't check out. See if you can get the receptionist as a witness, fraulein. She'll help, but we need decisive evidence if we want to link her directly to the crime. Something of hers found at the crime scene … a footprint … anything?"

"I checked the clinic records – they apparently keep track of what products are used on each customer to keep tabs on their inventory. The particular type of nail polish that Miss Moore was scheduled to use was found on the back of the victim's jacket." Ema gingerly pulled a small piece of cloth and handed it to Klavier. "I tested it myself. It's a perfect match."

"Well done, fraulein," Klavier said with a smile, looking over the piece of fabric Ema handed him. It was navy blue, with suspicious streaks of red down the middle. He seemed ready to say something else when April returned, carrying two plates of Salisbury steak and wearing a huge grin.

"Here you are!" she chirped, pushing the piles of papers aside to set down the two plates. "Enjoy!" She looked as though she wanted to stay, but Klavier dismissed her with a nod and went back to studying the evidence.

"Of course, one could deduce that when Miss Moore pushed our victim off the roof of his factory," Klavier mused as soon as April had left, "some of her wet nail polish from the salon rubbed off on his jacket." He handed the piece of cloth back to Ema as if to say _'My theory is right, discussion over, ja?'_ and began cutting his steak. "Is that not was you were thinking, fraulein?"

"It is," Ema replied, packing up her files and surveying her dining companion. _Klavier has what he needs for a win tomorrow, she thought, so I really should leave now. … Still, it would be a waste to leave all this food here._ Deciding it would be alright to finish her steak before leaving, she began to slice through the meat, keeping her eyes glued on the table. The two diners sat without talking, until Klavier valiantly attempted to break the silence.

"It should be an easy case, tomorrow, ja?" he asked, and Ema glanced quickly up at him.

"Yes," she replied, not bothering to humor Klavier's attempts at conversation. The pair fell back into silence, with Ema staring at the table, until a thought occurred to her, a thought so surprising that she couldn't help but blurt it out.

"You know, this case reminds me a little of one of Mr. Wright's cases!" As soon as the words left her mouth, she was sure she had said the wrong thing. "… You know, back when he was a lawyer." Ema snuck a glance at Klavier – he had dropped his eyes to his plate and was making a point of not looking up. "It wasn't that long after he helped me with a case, actually. The defendant was accused of pushing a man off of a cliff."

"And Herr Wright got her off?" Klavier asked, his voice concealing a hint of bitterness.

"But she was innocent, Klavier!" Ema looked at him curiously. "Surely you wouldn't want to send an innocent girl to jail?"

"Nein, of course not," Klavier said, in a strange voice that Ema couldn't even begin to read.

"Anyway," Ema continued, "Mr. Wright had a brilliant defense. My sister told me all about it. She said he got a confession from the real murderer and discovered an underground crime chain all at once." She lowered her voice. "And, some people claim he had amnesia during the trial."

"Fraulein, even Herr Wright couldn't pull off a successful defense while suffering from amnesia," Klavier scoffed. "No one's that good, and Herr Wright _certainly _isn't."

"I believe him, though … I've _always _believed him," Ema shot back, her eyes dancing with a delicious anger. "Mr. Wright is not a liar."

"I never accused him of anything of the sort," Klavier replied, his voice noticeably colder.

"I'm just saying it was an impressive defense. Mr. Wright fought right to the very end–"

"– by bluffing his way through the trial, as usual."

"Klavier!" Ema's exclamation was almost a shout, and if she had been paying any attention to what was going on in the rest of the restaurant, she probably would have noticed several other diners watching her argument. "You're – you're acting like your _brother!"_

There was silence as Klavier digested this new accusation.

"All Mr. Wright ever cared about was the truth," Ema continued, too upset to realize she was touching a nerve. "He just wanted to fight for justice and save innocent people and _you two went and got him disbarred!"_ If she wasn't already shouting, she was by the end of her sentence. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Klavier cut her off.

"You don't know _anything _about my brother! Or – or _me!"_ He leapt up from the table. "Don't you ever – _ever _– compare us again!" Ema felt tears welling up in her eyes, and Klavier turned his back on her and walked away from the table to conceal the drops forming in his own eyes.

Ema sat alone at her table for a few seconds, watching Klavier's retreating back until he reached the entrance, wrenched the doors open, and slammed them behind him. Then she glanced down at the table, wracking her brain for any idea of what to do next and fighting the feeling of guilt welling up in her stomach.

Her eyes lit upon something shiny sticking out from under Klavier's napkin – she reached towards it, and as her fingers brushed cool metal, she realized they were Klavier's motorcycle keys. Deciding instantly that she needed to clear her conscience, she dropped a pile of money on the table (way more than she'd ever pay for dinner, but probably just barely enough to cover a Klavier-priced meal) and dashed out of the restaurant after the prosecutor.

Ema found him just as he got to the parking lot, digging in his pockets for his keys. She called his name, and he stopped walking so she could catch up to him, his back still towards her.

"You, uh, forgot your keys …" she started, all desire to talk to him now gone. Klavier didn't look at her, and didn't reach for the keys that she held out to him. "Look – I'm sorry for what I said in there. I wasn't thinking – I should have been more considerate. I know you probably don't want to talk about your brother right now … I'm sorry, ok?" Ema stepped in front of Klavier so he couldn't help but look at her. His face looked strained, and he didn't look happy to finally look her in the eyes.

"Come on, Ema," he said after a time, "surely you know what it's like to almost lose a sibling?" Ema stared at him for a moment, shocked by the truth of it. How she had felt when Lana was almost convicted … she hated to remember those feelings, and they must be infinitely worse for Klavier.

"Yeah," Ema said, reaching for Klavier's hand, "I didn't think of it that way." She placed the motorcycle keys in his palm, pressing his fingers down over them. "Thanks … for reminding me." She dropped his hand, taking a few steps backwards towards the sidewalk. "Goodnight, Klavier."

"Goodnight, fraulein," he replied – and this time, Ema smiled at his German.

As the motorcycle's engine growled to a start behind her, Ema started to walk towards her apartment, resolving to maybe possibly be a tiny little bit more sensitive to Klavier's feelings the next time she saw him.


	2. Chapter 2

_If you've ever been alone in the dark blue,  
If you've ever been alone, you'll know._

It was early, but Ema always got up early on trial days. Sometimes Klavier's office was already open when she got there, but more often than not she was stuck waiting outside his door until he showed up.

Today, Ema was surprised to find Klavier already inside his office, scribbling furiously on a sheet of paper with his cell phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear. Curious as to whether he was doing prosecution work, Ema sat down on one of the chairs near his desk; but as soon as she got near enough to eavesdrop, Klavier dropped his shoulder, letting the phone fall gracefully from his neck down into his outstretched arm.

"Pretty nice, eh Fraulein?" he asked, flipping the cell phone into the air before stashing it back in his pocket. Ema rolled her eyes, but said nothing. "You're testifying at the trial, as usual, ja? Cause of death, autopsy results, that sort of thing?"

"I always do," Ema replied, absentmindedly flipping through the piles of papers Klavier had on his desk. "I told the other witnesses to meet us at the courthouse. Actually, it's just about time –"

"– Excuse me, Mr. Gavin?" an unfamiliar voice called from behind Ema. A tall, dark-haired man was standing in the doorway, waving a packet of papers at Klavier. "Sorry to interrupt – I have a form for you to sign." The man brushed past Ema and dropped the packet of papers on Klavier's desk.

"Ja, of course," Klavier replied, quickly scrawling his name on the bottom of the first page and handing it back to the man with a smile.

"Thank you, sir," the man said as he took the packet of papers Klavier was handing back to him. He nodded his head slightly and ducked out of the room.

Ema checked to make sure the man was gone before opening her mouth.

"How could you just sign that? You didn't even read it!"

"Oh Fraulein, calm down," Klavier said, leaning back in his chair. "I sign autographs all the time."

"Autographs?! That was a legal document!"

"Don't worry about it," Klavier replied with a shrug, zipping up his black leather briefcase and handing it to Ema. "I'd love to discuss it with you all day, Fraulein, but we're going to be late."

"I'm not carrying your stuff," Ema said, following Klavier out the door. "Here." She shoved the briefcase at him.

"Whatever you say, Fraulein," Klavier said, stepping into the elevator and wasting no time in pressing the button for the lobby. "Just hurry up, ja?"

Ema rolled her eyes and stood as far away from Klavier as possible during the ride down to the lobby.

* * *

Klavier's motorcycle was the most prominent thing in the entire prosecutor's parking lot. It was bright purple, with silver accents that must have had reflective pigments in them – there was no way regular metal could glitter that much. Klavier swung a leg over the motorcycle seat, and then turned back towards Ema, as if expecting her to say something.

"Hop on, Fraulein," Klavier said finally, patting the section of leather seat behind him.

"Yeah right," Ema replied, shaking her head at Klavier. "I think I'd rather walk."

"Oh Fraulein, be practical. The courthouse is five miles away, and the trial starts in ten minutes."

As Ema opened her mouth for another snarky reply, the loud noise of the sliding doors opening behind her shocked her into momentary silence. She noticed Detective Gumshoe caught up in a tangle of people who seemed to be rushing towards the exit, and he caught her eye and waved at her.

"Better get a move on, pal! The trial starts soon, right? Lucky you have dashing young men like Klavier to drive you around or you'd have to walk like me, pal!"

It wasn't that the truth of these words struck Ema's heart; it was just that if she refused a ride from Klavier, she would look foolish in front of the rest of the department.

Giving Klavier her iciest glare, she unwillingly slid onto the leather seat behind him.

"You had better not say a word," Ema warned as she wound her arms around his waist. "If I hear even one 'ja,' I'll jump off of this motorcycle." Klavier nodded; he seemed to be taking his newfound silence to heart.

As the motorcycle lurched forward, Ema instinctively tightened her arms around Klavier's waist, her body pressed against his by the velocity of the vehicle. The pair sped out into the street, and Ema felt more uncomfortable with every corner they rounded. The ride was only a few minutes long, but as they pulled into the underground parking lot at the courthouse, Ema couldn't wait to jump off of the motorcycle.

"We're supposed to wait in lobby number three," Klavier said slowly as he thumbed through a stack of papers, his back to Ema. The detective was still brushing off her jacket and shaking her head to get it adjusted to the solid ground that she was now standing on.

"Let's go, then," she replied once her head had stopped spinning, striding in front of Klavier and yanking the door of the courthouse open. "Coming?"

Klavier followed Ema through the door, up the stairs, and into the lobby. It looked the same as all the other lobbies the two had waited in – dark leather sofas, hanging plants, and a window filtering golden sunshine into the room – and the pair sat down on the nearest sofa to wait for their witnesses.

The room was far from empty. Secretaries and assistants dashed by, some stopping to ask for directions, and the occasional lost defense attorney wandered into the room before realizing his mistake. Ema sat perfectly still, her eyes scanning the room, waiting for her witness to show up; Klavier, on the other hand, was scanning the room for people of a different sort.

The lobby was full of tall women in tight pencil skirts and low-cut blazers, women with bouncy, wavy hair and eyes outlined in smoky grays and blues. Some of them Ema recognized as apprentice prosecutors or assistants, but many of them were unfamiliar faces to her. Klavier, of course, treated them all the same. A wave and a wink, and they were content to go on their way, and even the most stoic of female prosecutors could be reduced to a giggling mess. Ema's limp hair and oversized lab coat hardly seemed to compare.

By the time their witness arrived, Ema had become so accustomed to Klavier's constant flirtation that she passed the woman off as another promiscuous legal aide, drawn to the lobby by the tantalizing idea of meeting Klavier Gavin. It wasn't until the woman introduced herself that Ema snapped back to reality, pen in hand and ready to question her witness.

But questioning wasn't necessary; Klavier directed the woman towards one of the secretaries near the door, who would apparently "tell the pretty Fraulein all she needed to know about giving her testimony, ja?"

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Ema said, wiggling slightly on the couch to alleviate her aching back. "Have you _ever_ prepped your own witnesses?"

"Occasionally," he answered offhandedly, watching the woman to make sure she ended up at the right desk. "After all, I prep you, ja?"

"I can prep myself!" Ema said shortly, leaping to her feet in a huff and crossing her arms.

"Of course you can, Fraulein." Klavier stood up as well, taking Ema gingerly by the arm and leading her towards the court entrance. "But we'll have to argue about it later – unless you want to be late for the trial."

Shaking her arm out of his grip, Ema shoved her hands into her pockets and followed Klavier to the prosecutor's side of the courtroom. As she took her seat near the bench, her eyes landed on the defense attorney across the room. A sudden shock seized her body, and she glanced back at Klavier, silently mouthing the words at him.

_It's the man from your office!_

He seemed to understand her immediately, turning around to look for himself. Sure enough, the defense attorney, now unloading his documents and folders, was the same man who had entered Klavier's office an hour ago and demanded the prosecutor's signature. He wasn't even looking at the prosecutor's bench, but the sinister smile plastered across his face seemed to send Ema's stomach plunging. She flipped quickly through her court documents to find the man's name: Nathaniel Brent.

Before Ema could dwell on the man's strange actions, the judge banged his gavel and called court into session. Ema took her place on the witness stand, trying to avoid both the prosecutor's and the defense attorney's eyes. Still slightly unnerved, she read the autopsy report as carefully as she could without allowing her voice to shake.

"The victim's name was Lionel Trudeau, a 25 year old male. He fell off the roof of his seven story truffle factory to his death. The fall caused his neck to break, and he suffered several non-fatal injuries as well." Ema took a breath and snuck a glance at Klavier. He was watching her with a slight smile on his lips. "His time of death appears to be sometime between midnight and 2 AM –"

"Objection!" roared a voice from across the courtroom, and from the corner of her eye, Ema saw the defense attorney leap to his feet. "Your honor, I feel I must bring this to your attention." Brent waved the piece of paper he was holding for emphasis. "My autopsy report reads, and I quote … 'Victim's name: Lionel Trudeau; Age: 45; Cause of death: electrocution; Time of death: Noon …' Does this court provide an explanation for the discrepancy?"

"Perhaps you have the wrong document?" the judge offered, looking from Brent to Klavier and back at Brent.

"Absolutely not. This is an official police document, and it was signed by Prosecutor Gavin himself." Ema could have sworn she saw the corners of Brent's mouth twist into a triumphant smile, if only for an instant. "Clearly there has been some sort of conspiracy between the police department and the prosecutor's office." Brent let his heavy gaze rest on Ema. "Detective Skye, is it? Surely you couldn't have been involved in this scheme," he crooned, not bothering to disguise the sarcasm in his voice, "although it's always the pretty ones who go bad." He shrugged apologetically in the judge's direction, who seemed to be staring at Ema with a very strange expression on his face.

"Your honor, I swear I knew nothing about this –" Ema said, the words rushing out of her mouth.

"Hush!" the judge said, punctuating his command with a slam of his gavel.

"But your honor! It must just be a mistake –"

"Fraulein!" Klavier shouted, his voice cutting through the noise better than the judge's gavel. "Just stay calm." He turned to the judge. "Your honor, I realize this is a serious problem. If you'd just grant us a short recess, the prosecution promises to get to the bottom of this mess. Arguing over the autopsy report in court would just waste your honor's precious time."

"Prosecutor Gavin presents a valid point. Both the prosecution and the defense may take a fifteen minute break," the judge said, slamming his gavel down to indicate the beginning of the recess, "but when you return, there had better be a suitable explanation for this confusion!"

* * *

"Klavier," Ema pleaded, sidestepping the flow of people pouring out of the courtroom, "you don't understand, I need this job, and if Mr. Brent convinces the judge I'm guilty of fraud – Lana's in Europe, I'd have no way to pay the rent –"

"Take a deep breath." Klavier cut her off, leading her towards the nearest chair. "And please, be quiet, ja? I need to think."

Ema watched Klavier pace slowly around the lobby, her fear slowly giving way to embarrassment – did she really just plead for her job with Klavier Gavin? A small part of her knew that she needed to keep her job, but a bigger part of her was telling her that she also needed to keep her dignity.

The seconds ticked by slowly; the fifteen-minute recess began to feel like hours out of court. Just as Ema seemed to compose herself, people in the lobby began to slowly trickle back into the courtroom. Klavier had stopped pacing, and was in the middle of scribbling something down on a scrap of paper when he noticed the sudden flow of bodies out of the lobby. He continued to write as he walked towards the door, looking up every so often to check that his path was clear of people.

Ema headed back towards the witness stand without so much as a second thought, until Klavier stepped out from behind the prosecution's desk and blocked her path.

"Hey fop! What's the big idea?" Ema tried to squeeze around the prosecutor, but he held out his arms so that Ema was stuck.

"Your testimony's over, Fraulein," Klavier replied, ducking left and right to prevent Ema from finding a way past him. "There's been enough … conflict."

"I can take care of myself up there! And besides," Ema said, grabbing one of Klavier's arms and forcing it down to his side, "you're acting childish. People are staring!"

"I don't think you need any more stress, ja?" Klavier took a few steps forward, forcing Ema to back away from the witness's stand. "I'll do fine without the rest of your report." He glanced towards the defense stand. "Don't worry, I'll take down Brent for you."

Ema wasn't sure if she was actually touched by Klavier's words, or if she was just afraid of Brent – she kept both options to herself. Either way, she allowed herself to be led towards the spectator's seats, high about the courtroom.

"Please be seated," the judge said, banging his gavel, "court is now back in session!" The buzz of chatter quieted instantly. "Prosecutor Gavin, do you have an explanation for the inconsistencies in the autopsy reports?"

"Your honor, Mr. Brent must have accidentally been given a preliminary document." Klavier flashed the judge a charming smile. "My apologies. It won't happen again, ja?"

"Be sure it doesn't, Prosecutor. Now, shall we continue with the trial?"

As Klavier called his next witness, Ema could have sworn she saw Mr. Brent scowling.

* * *

"Congrats, Gavin," another lawyer called, waving at Klavier from across the room. The court lobby was slowly emptying, and Ema's own thoughts were drifting towards home. Still giddy with the excitement of another win, she felt compelled to congratulate Klavier, although his popularity made it hard to get anywhere near him. As the majority of the lobby slowly filed out, Ema found an opportunity.

"Congrats," she said, tapping Klavier on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Thanks, Fraulein," he replied breathlessly, his cheeks flushed with excitement. Ema couldn't help but smile. Klavier was always different after he won a trial – he was happier, more sincere.

"Any time," Ema chirped back, hoping to leave the courthouse before Klavier turned back into his regular, teasing self.

"Hey Fraulein!" Klavier called as Ema turned her back to leave. "Need a ride home?" Ema turned around slowly, debating how to reply. She didn't want to be around Klavier any more than necessary, but she did live far away from the courthouse – and his attitude was still at a high from the trial.

"As long as you're not gonna be a jerk about it," Ema said, following Klavier out the door to the parking garage. This time it only took Ema a few seconds to get accustomed to the motorcycle, but just as they began to pull out of the parking spot, Klavier turned to look at Ema.

"Oh Fraulein, I forgot to tell you that I need to stop home before I drop you off. That's fine, ja?" Without waiting for an answer, Klavier laughed and tore off, leaving a bewildered Ema clinging on for dear life.

Klavier lived surprising close to the courthouse; his apartment was only a few short blocks away. Ema followed him inside, not at all surprised by the furnishings. The front door opened into a large kitchen, with dark wooden cabinets and black countertops flecked with gold. As she followed Klavier further into the apartment, Ema found herself in a luxurious-looking living room, dotted with soft leather furniture and marble coffee tables.

"Wait here, ja? I have to make a phone call," Klavier said, disappearing into his room almost instantly.

As she waited, Ema paced slowly around the room, admiring Klavier's collection of extravagant odds and ends. The room was full of expensive decorations, but only one object was given a prominent spot on top of the fireplace. It was a picture frame, and as Ema got closer, she noticed it contained a photograph of Klavier and Kristoph.

The two were much younger. Kristoph was still a teenager, and Klavier had a childish glow about him. They were smiling, and Klavier's arm was snaked around his older brother's waist. Happiness seemed to radiate off of the picture.

Footsteps behind her alerted Ema that Klavier had returned.

"This is cute," she said, gesturing towards the photograph she had been admiring. "You and your brother look really happy."

"I miss him," Klavier said softly, holding the picture gently for a moment. A silence fell over the pair, a silence that wasn't awkward so much as it was thoughtful. "But we should get going now. I have to stop by the state jail after I drop you home to take care of some things with _him._" Klavier replaced the picture where it had been sitting, and glanced at his watch. "Actually, visiting hours ended five minutes ago – but I got an extension."

"Your almighty prosecuting power at work again, I guess?" Ema scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Not this time," Klavier said. "I just told them I had to drive home a pretty Fraulein."


	3. Chapter 3

_You could be my nurse,  
I'll be the patient you're saving._

Saturdays were the closest thing Ema ever got to a day off. She didn't have to come into the office, and sometimes she even made it through the entire day without being called to a crime scene. But more often than not, she ended up being put on a case regardless of the fact that when she had been hired, she had been _promised_ two free days a week.

Eventually it became part of her Saturday morning ritual: wake up, brush teeth, pop a bagel in the toaster, and wait for a phone call from the prosecutor's office. But even though she had gotten used to it, Ema still felt a burning desire to ignore the caller – or even better, to chuck the phone against a wall – whenever she heard those first telltale notes of her ringtone.

The Saturday after wrapping up the Trudeau case, Ema was anticipating a nice, quiet weekend – after all, the prosecutor's office had plenty of detectives to choose from if any new cases came up. _'And I'm not exactly their star investigator,'_ Ema thought with a little shake of her head.

She had just finished brewing a pot of strong coffee and was about to sit down at the little card table in her kitchen and start her breakfast when her ringtone – oh, how she _hated_ that sound sometimes – snapped her out of her surprisingly good mood.

Ema snatched her phone off of the kitchen counter and had to restrain herself from simply opening her fingers and letting the phone fly across the room.

"Hello?" she snapped, swallowing a mouthful of blueberry bagel and drumming her fingers on the counter impatiently.

"My, aren't we touchy?" the voice on the other end teased. Ema almost squealed with delight.

"Oh, Mr. Wright! How are you?"

"Not bad, Ema. Listen, I need a favor from you."

"Sure," Ema said, leaning back against the kitchen counter and glancing at her calendar to check when she was free. "Today?"

"Yeah, today. I need to go down to the detention center and speak with Kristoph – but he's been placed under high security, and after what happened at the last trial … let's just say that if I show up without a police escort, I'll find _myself_ escorted out in a most unpleasant way."

"Honestly, Mr. Wright, I don't know if I'm the right person to ask for this kind of thing – I wouldn't exactly consider my position at the prosecutor's office one of power, if you know what I mean. You'd probably be better off with someone like K" – she had to choke back the name – "um, someone higher up on the law enforcement chain of command."

"The 'law enforcement chain of command' isn't too happy with me right now, Ema. And there are someone people – Klavier, for example – that I just _can't_ ask." On the other end of the line, Ema could hear him let out a heavy sigh. "Poor kid – I can't imagine him wanting to escort me to visit his estranged brother at this time. No, it definitely has to be you."

"If you're sure –"

"Have I ever not been sure? I've been down to that detention center too many times for my own good, and trust me, the security isn't all that great. They probably won't even bother checking you out."

"Alright, then," Ema said, moving away from the counter to pace nervously up and down the kitchen. "I'll help, if it's that important to you."

"Great! I'll be at your apartment just as soon as I can figure out what to do with Trucy – just wait for me there. There's a bus stop close by, right? That's probably easier than walking."

"Yeah, there is. See you soon, Mr. Wright." Ema waited for Mr. Wright to hang up before she gingerly lowered her phone from her ear. She had the strangest feeling that she was getting wrapped up in some business that she really didn't want to be a part of, but she essentially had no choice. After all, didn't she owe Mr. Wright for helping her save Lana?

* * *

Though the detention center was really only ten minutes from Ema's apartment – fifteen, tops – the bus ride seemed to be taking hours.

"Do they really need to make all these stops?" Ema grumbled to herself, glaring out the window. She had been on edge since Mr. Wright had picked her up at and walked with her down to the bus stop, and the crowded bus seats had done nothing to improve her mood.

"Here," Mr. Wright said, handing her a folded pamphlet he had snagged from the front of the bus, "it says that we should be there in about … " – he glanced at his watch – "… three minutes. And besides, I really only need to ask Kristoph one question. It won't take long, I promise."

Ema would have asked what that one question was, but the bus had just pulled up to its stop down the street from the detention center, and Mr. Wright was already making his way through the crowded aisle towards the door. Once Ema climbed down from the bus, she had to jog to try and keep up with him, and didn't actually catch up to Mr. Wright until they were standing outside of the detention center doors.

Ironically enough, Mr. Wright had in fact been right about getting in to see Kristoph – the guards let the two into his cell with just one quick glance at Ema. From the moment she stepped inside the cell, Ema felt uncomfortable – the tension was thick, and when she finally set her eyes upon Kristoph Gavin, his stare seemed to travel right through her.

"Kristoph," Mr. Wright nodded, "you look much more … composed since I last saw you."

"Do I now?" Kristoph replied, with an uninterested glance towards his visitors. "Maybe jail time has done me good, then. What do you want?" It was such a blunt, to the point question that Ema was taken aback – Mr. Wright, on the other hand, seemed unmoved.

"Vera survived," he said with a daring little smile. "Just thought you should know."

"I'm sitting in jail," Kristoph said, lowering himself nonchalantly into his big armchair, "do you honestly think the lives that I once cared about matter to me any longer?" He shrugged. "She can live, what do I care?"

"Not that I expected you to care," Phoenix began, his eyes flashing, "but still, Kristoph, every time I talk to you, I'm _amazed_ at your inhumanity. You had me fooled for quite some time, and I'll give you kudos for that – but that's the _only_ thing I will _ever_ commend you for."

Kristoph sat perfectly still, as Mr. Wright continued his ranting. Ema just wished she could get away from those all-seeing eyes.

"You're a sick bastard, Kristoph. Absolutely sick. And Vera – she trusted you, trusted you when she had _no one else_ to trust, and you just screwed her over – you SCREWED HER OVER, YOU ASSHOLE –" Ema had grabbed Phoenix's arm and was desperately trying to stop him from physically attacking Kristoph.

"Mr. Wright, please! You'll get us in trouble – please, quiet down!" '_Please don't do anything stupid, Mr. Wright, my job could be at risk here …'_

Kristoph laughed – a dark, humorless sound that silenced Phoenix better than any of Ema's pleading. "You're only making a fool out of yourself, Phoenix Wright. You're a prime example of the reasons why I gave up emotion."

"That's funny, Kristoph," came a voice that belonged to neither Phoenix Wright nor Ema, "because I've found that emotions are some of the best parts of life." If Ema hadn't still been in shock from the verbal altercation that had taken place just moments before, she probably would have blurted out a variety of profanities at the sound of Klavier Gavin's voice.

"Klavier," Kristoph acknowledged with a curt, unfriendly nod. "What brings you here?"

"I was filing some court documents and I couldn't help but hear all the shouting," said Klavier, stepping around Phoenix so he had a full view of his older brother. "But I'm surprised to see you here, Fraulein – after all, I didn't hear _your_ voice."

Phoenix couldn't help but let out a completely inappropriately-timed snort, and Ema just rolled her eyes and ignored the comment.

"So the papers pertaining to the apartment are all filled out, then?" Kristoph asked, watching Klavier with an expression that had vague hints of interest.

"They've just been filed – it should take a few days for them to officially appear on record, but then again, you have all the time in the world, don't you?" It was a comment that would have stung any other human being, but Kristoph barely even blinked.

"I suppose life is going well for you, then?"

"I – it's lonely," Klavier admitted, and Ema, who had been running a strand of hair through her fingers, froze. Ever so slowly, she raised her eyes just high enough to watch Klavier from the corner of her eye; he wasn't acting like the glimmerous fop she was used to.

She turned to Phoenix to suggest that they give the two some time alone, but he was still staring at Kristoph with a strange expression on his face. So Ema just shrank back awkwardly, leaning against the bars of the jail cell and trying not to eavesdrop – although she somehow managed to catch every word.

"I used to think you _loved me," _Klavier said, in little more than a whisper.

"I do lo –"

"But it's so easy to _say_ it, Kristoph – you can say 'I love you' but you don't mean it! Did you ever mean it?" He stuffed his hands into his pockets, as if he wasn't sure what to do with them. "If this is how you show love than I don't want your love. I – don't – want – it!" Klavier was shaking head to toe, and his words seemed detached and stifled.

"You'll always have my love, brother – even if you don't want it." The words seemed to slither from Kristoph's mouth, the way a snake slithers through the grass before it strikes its final victim.

Klavier only shook his head. "You're not who you used to be, Kristoph." He bowed his head, and Ema forced herself to look away – she couldn't tell if he was crying or not, but she didn't think she could bear seeing him do the former.

She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder – it was Mr. Wright.

"I think it's time to go."

* * *

The detention center lobby was bustling with people, quite a contrast to the stark jail cell that Ema had been in moments before. She slumped down into an armchair near the door and rested her head on her hand, only looking up when Phoenix sat down on the arm of the chair and gave her shoulder an awkward little pat.

"Why did we have to see that?" Ema said, more to herself than to anyone else. Her entire image of Klavier seemed to be crumbling away more and more by the minute, and she would do anything to keep it the way it had been.

"I figured Klavier would appreciate knowing he had … backup." Phoenix replied, catching Ema's eyes. "Besides, I wanted you to see what he's been going through. It's not easy for him, you know – I don't see how you can hate someone when they're in this state."

Ema was quiet for a moment, trying to sort out the hurricane of thoughts tumbling through her mind. What was it about Klavier that confused her so much? All she wanted was to hate him in peace – but then there were people like Mr. Wright, determined to convince her that she had been wrong all along.

"It's not that I hate him, necessarily – I just hate the way he acts sometimes."

Her answer seemed to satisfy Phoenix, who nodded. "I understand – but at least try and cut him some slack – for my sake, if not for his."

"But Mr. Wright – I'm sorry for asking, but – Klavier, he was the one who got your badge taken away … I don't see how you can be defending him now."

"I guess it's just that we both know how it feels to be manipulated by Kristoph," Mr. Wright answered quietly, looking off into space. "I've come to terms with what happened seven years ago – and I honestly only wish the best for Klavier. Besides, he needs all the support he can get, with a brother like that." Phoenix hopped off the edge of the chair and offered Ema his hand, pulling her up from her seat. "Forgive and forget, Ema. Forgive and forget."

As the two headed for the exit, Klavier Gavin walked into the lobby, handed something to the receptionist, and also started towards the door. Ema looked away from him almost instantly, avoiding his eyes and any other part of him, but Phoenix acknowledged him with a nod – and Klavier did the same, accenting his with one of his rare genuine smiles. He glanced at Ema for a moment, waiting to see if she would turn around; when she didn't, Klavier only smiled again to himself and mumbled something under his breath.

Of course, Ema was dead set upon staring straight ahead of her and missed the entire exchange, but if she _had_ caught any of it, she would have heard Klavier mumble, _"I wouldn't expect any less."_

_

* * *

_

_(A/N: So sorry about the major delay in updating this! College applications are the most awful, depressing, time-consuming things in the world, trust me.)  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Cause I want I want, I need I need  
Some peace of mind and clarity._

While huge fluffy slippers were always comfortable, the rain sliding down Ema's apartment windows made her toes seem extra cozy. Despite the slight storm outside, the weather was warm, and Ema was stretched out on her couch, her legs bare beneath a pair of tight striped boyshorts. The evening news was on mute; Ema liked the vague company of the TV newscasters, but she was more interested in listening to the dripping rain outside. Her stomach was growling, but she was so relaxed where she was that Ema was reluctant to move from the couch, even to make herself dinner.

Before she could wrestle with her unruly appetite, her phone vibrated so violently that it fell off the arm of the couch and went right on vibrating along the floor.

"Hello?" Ema answered breathlessly, draping herself over the edge of the couch to snatch at her phone before it stopped ringing. "Oh shit, it's on speaker. Hang on," Ema said into the phone as an unintelligible voice shattered the serenity of the rain storm. "Ok, here we go." Ema lifted the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Ema!" Lana's voice called from the phone. "What on earth are you shouting about?"

"Lana!" Ema squealed, settling back down onto the couch and pulling her knees up to her stomach. "It's nothing, just arguing with my phone."

"Typical. How's Los Angeles been?"

"Not bad - it's raining right now, but it's actually kinda peaceful."

"You must be freezing. Have you eaten yet?"

"This is Los Angeles, it's never freezing. And I haven't made dinner yet, I was enjoying the silence. Do you make a habit of keeping track of the time over here?"

"Of course! You're my little sister, what do you expect?"

Ema made a quick calculation in her head. "So it must be like, 4:30 in the morning for you!"

"I get up early for work, anyway, and I wanted to call you before you went to bed. Speaking of work, how's it been?"

"Not terribly busy. I've been working on a few cases recently, but nothing big and nothing too time consuming." Ema's stomach growled again, and her fingers itched to rip open a bag of Snackoos.

"What about that Klavier you keep telling me about? Still a jerk?"

Ema's brows knitted together and she paused for a moment. "It's ... different now, Lana. Last time you and I talked, I didn't really get it. I don't think I can call him a jerk anymore - he can be a jerk, sure, but that's not who he is. He's just a guy who's had a rough time."

She heard nothing on the other end of the line except for a few sniffles. "Lana? Are you ... crying?"

"No! It's just - " she sniffled again " - you've grown up so much since I last saw you!"

"Oh, stop making it into such a big deal! I've just had a lot to think about recently."

"I'm proud of you, Ema."

"Lana! You're embarrassing me!"

"Come on, no one's listening. You've always been the impulsive one, so I'm glad you're finally taking the time to think your actions through."

_'Some of my actions, at least,'_ Ema thought running a hand through her hair. "It just comes with the territory of living alone, I guess." Ema's stomach gave another growl, and she twisted around to sit straight up on the couch. "Listen, Lana, I gotta go - I'll call you later this week, ok?"

"Sure thing, Ema. Good luck at work!"

By the time the two sisters had finished exchanging their goodbyes, Ema was already pulling pots and pans out of her kitchen cabinets. She considered herself a fairly decent cook, but it was approaching 8:00 at night, and Ema wasn't sure if her stomach could wait for an entire piece of chicken or roast beef to cook.

Instead, she grabbed a frying pan and a bottle of Tabasco sauce and whipped together the quickest thing she could think of - grilled cheese.

The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle by the time Ema sat down at her kitchen table, and the lights of the city glowed through her slick misty windows. They gave her the same feeling that she had gotten walking home from the restaurant where her and Klavier had had dinner - it was as if the warmth of the night had somehow lodged itself into her chest and was bravely smoldering there.

_'Why can't all nights be as uncomplicated as this?'_ Ema thought, tracing a finger along the edge of her plate. Alone in her mind, there was no one to answer to but herself; of course, it was never that simple out in the real world.

No, in the real world it was downright complicated.

Admitting that she may have been wrong about Klavier to Lana was hard enough for Ema; admitting it to other people - or admitting it to Klavier himself - was near impossible. To be fair, Ema had barely admitted it to herself. Her emotions were warring within her - after making it clear to everyone that she detested Klavier, she could hardly expect people to take her seriously when she suddenly decided to start treating him differently.

Had she been wrong all along about him? God, that was an awful question to have to answer. Maybe she had misjudged him - _'but that wasn't my fault!'_ she thought, a defensive spark racing through her mind. _'If he acts like a jerk, he should expect to be treated like a jerk!'_

Getting up from the table and dropping her plate in the sink, she decided she would take a shower and mull it over. She always came up with her best ideas in the shower.

"Oh, _shut up,"_ she moaned, rolling her eyes as her cell phone began vibrating again.

_'So much for that shower.'_

* * *

Always the multitasker, Klavier had reached a new high - he was simultaneously packing up his things for the night, sipping from a bottle of San Pellegrino, reading over a recent police report, and air-guitaring along to the heavy metal song pumping from his elaborate speaker system. The packing he finished relatively quickly, and the same with the bottle of San Pellegrino. When he had finished with the report, he slipped it into one of the outside pockets of his portfolio and tucked the entire thing under his arm. The last thing he did before he left his office was to shut off his stereo, turn down the lights, and lock the doors.

But he wasn't ready to go home just yet. As he waved a careless goodbye to the building secretary on his way out, he headed left down the street instead of right towards the parking garage.

It was 7:54, and the bus that Detective Gumshoe took home every night arrived at his stop at exactly 8:08, on the dot. That meant Klavier had thirteen minutes to make it several blocks down the street and convince Gumshoe to answer one very important question. The latter, Klavier knew, wouldn't be a problem; the former was a very different story, and Klavier probably wouldn't have made it if he hadn't broke out into a fast-paced jog the moment he left the prosecutor's office.

As it were, he caught up with the detective at 8:04, out of breath and panting. Gumshoe only gave him a pleasant greeting, and inquired as to whether or not Klavier was taking the bus home tonight, too. Klavier gave him a bizarre look and shook his head. Gumshoe was an exceptionally dense detective, but Klavier had come to realize that at times, he could use that to his advantage.

This was one of those times.

"Remember that coffee shop Fraulien Skye used to tell you about all the time? The one she goes to every Friday night?" Klavier remembered several specific instances where the topic had come up between Gumshoe and Ema; she had, of course, never discussed the same topic with Klavier. That was just another reason why Gumshoe had become so instrumental in his plan – and it all hinged upon whether or not he was oblivious enough to spill the information when Klavier asked for it.

"Oh, you mean _Natural Grounds,_ on the other side of the city? Yeah, we just talked about it today, pal! Told me how she was going tomorrow and everything …" The detective trailed off suspiciously. "Say, pal, you wouldn't be planning anythin' fishy tomorrow, would ya? Spyin' on Detective Skye or anythin'?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Klavier said, flashing his most charming smile at Detective Gumshoe. "I was only wondering. Anyway, you've been a tremendous help, detective. Thanks for your time." They shook hands, and then Klavier turned back towards the parking garage.

_Tomorrow._

It was time to set his plan in motion. But first, one more phone call had to be made.

* * *

"Hello?" Ema said into the mouthpiece of her phone, leaning against the wall to glare at no one in particular. She didn't normally have a problem with phone calls, but she was grumpy and irritable, and she had no idea who would be trying to contact her that such a late hour of the night. Then she realized she hadn't bothered to check the caller ID, and waited sheepishly until the voice on the other end identified itself.

"Fraulien! I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"N-no," Ema said, thoroughly shaken. After spending an entire evening working out her feelings towards Klavier, he had suddenly decided to take the liberty to call her. If his plan was to catch her off guard, he had certainly succeeded.

"Good – I would hate to be a bother. How was your day?"

'_Is this what he called me for? Small talk?'_ Ema stood frozen against the wall, afraid to move – as if any small movement would make her heartbeat loud enough to be audible to Klavier on the other end of the phone. "Fine, Klavier. Why did you call me?"

It sounded abrupt, but that was how Ema wanted it to sound.

"Ah fraulein, you don't waste any time, do you? Alright, I'll bite – I did have a reason for calling you tonight."

"So spit it out." Ema was getting more irritated by the minute – talking with Klavier always made her uncomfortable, and she hated feeling uncomfortable. It meant she didn't have a handle on her own emotions, and Ema hated it when she wasn't in control.

"I – do you think we're friends, Ema?"

Ema chewed on her bottom lip for a few awkward seconds, more to stop herself from saying something dumb than from nervousness. Her discomfort had progressed steadily, and she was desperate to say something – anything – to get Klavier to hang up.

Except she had no idea what to say.

"I don't have to answer your stupid questions, Klavier," she said, her body rigid and her mind absolutely blank. It was as if the world around her would dissolve if she were to move even the slightest inch.

"Come on, Ema, just between the two of us – there's no one else listening. We're friends, aren't we?"

And before she could stop herself, Ema let a small _"Yes,"_ slip from her lips.

The next few seconds of painful silence weighed heavily on Ema's shoulders; her mind was playing a strangely distorted video clip of Klavier's potential reactions to her reply. Her eyes were screwed shut, and she absolutely refused to breathe until she heard Klavier's voice again.

"Good," was all he said, in a low voice that barely made it across the airways. There was another handful of silent seconds.

"Why'd you ask?" Ema said finally, almost fearing the answer. Her cheeks burned with an unrecognizable embarrassment; she could rarely gauge Klavier's feelings, especially over the phone – and that bothered her. How could she trust him with anything personal when all he seemed to do was mock her?

"It's just been on my mind." Klavier's voice snapped Ema out of her inner monologue. "But fraulein, I gotta go," he said, "so I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Sure," Ema said, grateful that the conversation was drawing to a close. "Goodbye."

And she snapped the phone closed and tossed it onto the couch across from her as if it were on fire.

For the rest of the night, as she was getting ready for bed, she walked as if in a trance; and even when she slid under her covers that night and listened to the rain drip against the roof, she was still thinking about Klavier.

She couldn't figure him out.

She probably never would.

* * *

Klavier fiddled with the phone in his hands, then dropped it onto his kitchen table with a sigh. Everything had gone as he had hoped; an admission of anything other than hostility from Ema was an achievement itself, but to have her go so far as to assert their friendship was truly out of character.

Something about it puzzled Klavier, but he chalked Ema's reaction up to a change of heart and buried his unease in the back of his mind for later. There was plenty of time in the future for little details, and his brain was filled with plans for tomorrow night.

His guitar was polished. His music was carefully packed away in his shoulder bag. Even his shirt was ironed and neatly folded next to his bed. He had never been more prepared for a gig in his life.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel that tomorrow night would make or break the rest of his life.

(A/N: lalala look I am actually alive not dead as my lack of updates would leave people to believe)


End file.
